#Lafayette Library

[john-laurens]

Philadelphia May 17th 1780 Dear Sir, I embrace the earliest & best opportunity of acknowledging the receipt of yours, dated, Wilmington 21st April, & need not, I trust, express how much I join with you in anxious expectation of hearing the fate of our Capital, & the brave men within it.  I am, however, not without my hopes, & am convinced, that if Sir Henry has not succeeded before this time, he never will.  The Garrison & inhabitants of New York have been thrown into the greatest confusion by news received from Europe, repeated councils of war have been held, repeated expresses sent off to Clinton, & the citizens, as well as the military, are called out to fatigue duty; they are erecting works between the two rivers, and a battery at the lookout on Staten Island, whilst a number of vessels have been prepared, & are ready to be sunk, with a view of obstructing the entrance of the harbor.  These facts, joined to the information we have received from Europe, lend us to expect the appearance of a friendly force.  I thought it of the greatest consequence that our friends in Carolina should be immediately made acquainted with our expectations in this matter, as it may be attended with no small influence upon their councils.  As my Colleague Matthews is on a committee at Camp, I am deprived of his advice with respect to that part of your letter, which hints the expediency of transmitting to Mr. Adams, a similar commission, to that which you now hold, but have thought it best upon reflection not to say mention any thing about the matter, answering in general terms to all enquiries, that you were at Wilmington, & waiting for a safe opportunity to embark.  Should we be so unfortunate as to lose Charles Town, it will not then be too late to transmit a commission to Mr. Adams, but should our enemies be disappointed, you will in that case, I flatter myself, my dear Sir, be prevailed upon to make the attempt, & may do it with a far greater prospect of success, if not embarrassed with the interference of another Person._ We have had quires of paper from our Ministers abroad, but they contain little else but extracts from French & English Newspapers, except on one head which I have alluded to in the other page of this letter, & which prudence forbids my discussing on paper._ Should any thing material take place, I should esteem it a particular favor to hear from you, & will endeavor to deserve it, by giving every degree of information from this quarter. I am, dear Sir, With the greatest respect & esteem, Your most obdnt & hum. Servant, F. Kinloch. The Marquis de la Fayette is arrived, & has, I believe, some information to communicate. Governor Morris had the misfortune, to be thrown out of his Phaeton the other day, & has lost his leg by amputation. I enclose the last Newspapers, which I beg you would be so kind as to forward to the Governor.

Francis Kinloch to Henry Laurens, in a letter dated May 17, 1780. Transcribed from the copy held at the Huntington Library.

This is a fairly short letter, but there's so much going on!

Francis and Henry directly interacted several times throughout their lives, but this may be the only surviving letter between the two.

"acknowledging the receipt of yours, dated, Wilmington 21st April" - Letter not found. Henry Laurens was in Wilmington, NC at this time and was looking to secure passage to the Netherlands.

"I join with you in anxious expectation of hearing the fate of our Capital, & the brave men within it.  I am, however, not without my hopes, & am convinced, that if Sir Henry has not succeeded before this time, he never will." - Kinloch was referring to Sir Henry Clinton's siege on Charleston, SC, which lasted for three months. Despite Kinloch's optimism, General Benjamin Lincoln had already surrendered to the British on May 12, 1780. Kinloch was serving on the Continental Congress in Philadelphia at the time, so the news had not yet reached him.

"These facts, joined to the information we have received from Europe, lend us to expect the appearance of a friendly force." - This and other references to news from Europe are likely a reference to reinforcements arriving from France. The comte de Rochambeau and 5,500 men set sail for America in May 1780.

"which hints the expediency of transmitting to Mr. Adams, a similar commission, to that which you now hold" - In the fall of 1779, Congress had named Henry Laurens as minister to the Netherlands in hopes of securing a treaty and a loan with the country. Henry would never make it to the Netherlands - his ship was intercepted by a British frigate, and he was imprisoned in the Tower of London. John Adams later served as envoy to the Netherlands during 1780-1782.

"The Marquis de la Fayette is arrived, & has, I believe, some information to communicate." - A Lafayette mention! Lafayette had recently traveled to France to secure additional aid for the American cause, and he recently returned to America with news of the impending support.

"Governor Morris had the misfortune, to be thrown out of his Phaeton the other day, & has lost his leg by amputation." - An iconic story. I did not have "Francis Kinloch writes to Henry Laurens about Gouverneur Morris's amputated leg" on my 1780 bingo card, yet here we are.

[macaron-n-cheese]

I NEVER POSTED THIS

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A post shared by William & Mary Libraries (@wmlibraries)

Lafayette x Swem Library promotion! Lafayette's honorary degree from William & Mary (granted upon his visiting tour in 1824) is being housed at William & Mary's Swem library for the first time in over 200 years to celebrate the bicentennial of Lafayette's 2024-2025 tour of the US! Thank you Mark Schneider for making this video, I got more likes on my repost than the actual video on the student social media 💔

Voila!

Bonus! They are celebrating in Yorktown, too!

@rosemeriwether @hiidkwhatimdoing7525 Lafayette's honorary degree is being housed in Seem library if you have time to see! :)

[nordleuchten]

what is the best source for information on georges lafayette?

Dear Anon,

that is a wonderful question! You will shoot me a message, if you found the answer, yes? :-)

But all jokes aside, it is a little tricky to find information on Georges due to several reasons. He never wrote his own Memoirs, he has always very gladly occupied his fathers shadow and no historian has yet decided to dedicate their professional life to Georges. If you just search for the term “Georges Lafayette” most results will deal with the relation between George Washington and La Fayette. Still, there are some resources I can recommend if you want to do some research.

Lafayette in America in 1824 and 1825, Volume 1 and Lafayette in America in 1824 and 1825, Volume 2. Both books were written by La Fayette’s secretary Auguste Levasseur and give great insight into La Fayette’s Tour of 1824/25 – including Georges, who accompanied his father.

Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette by Jules Germain Cloquet. Cloquet was the family’s physician and a friend. The focus of this books lies once again with the older La Fayette but nonetheless offers a view of Georges and his position within the family.

Life of Madame de Lafayette by Virginie, Marquise de Lasteyrie du Sallant is primarily concerned with Adrienne but, for example, details Georges’ whereabouts and “journeys” during Adrienne’s imprisonment in France.

The best thing there is, are letters. Sadly, Georges’ letters have never been compiled and published but that does not have to stop us! Founders Online has a number of letters about and by Georges (here and here). The letters that are written about Georges are mainly between Alexander Hamilton and George Washington during the early 1790’s when Georges was in America and later between La Fayette and Thomas Jeffersons (but also James Madison and others) when they updated each other regularly about their families. The Library of Congress has a few handwritten letters by Georges to George Washington (and a few others). Georges Washington’s Mount Vernon also had a few letters from Georges to members of the Washington-Parke-Custis-family, but as far as I knew they are only partially digitalized.

The University of Chicago has a number of letters by Georges La Fayette – quite the treasure chest. Same goes for the Archives départementales de Seine-et-Marne. The family’s manor La Grange is located in this department and the archives have a webpage and a great PDF-file on the family. Again, La Fayette is placed in the spotlight but there are also a few but highly interesting tidbits about Georges.

Then we have the Paris Archives, État civil reconstitué (XVIe-1859) in France. There you find documents like birth-, marriage- and death-certificates.

Last but not least, Georges’ political opinions are partially documented in the Archives Parlementaires (huge thank-you to @echo-bleu for helping me finding these.)

I hope you are able to find the information you are looking for and I hope you have/had a lovely day!

[princetonarchives]

"While the name of this city recalls important military remembrance, it is also connected with that of the illustrious college which in diffusing knowledge and liberal sentiments, has greatly contributed to turn those successes to the advantage of public liberty. Your library had been destroyed, but your principles were printed in the hearts of American patriots."

--Marie Jean Paul Joseph Roche Yves Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, while on Princeton's campus to accept an honorary L.L.D., September 25, 1824

[princessofmanyfaces]

Welcome to the Dark Side

A 3 star read for me | Okay so I DNF'd the first book because I couldn't get through it. Cress and King gave me the cringies

Book two was so much better. It took me weeks to get to 19% in the first book (where I DNF'd) and it took me a few hours to get there with Welcome to the dark side and I finished it like a day later.

Although it made me extreme uncomfortable when Zeus was too focused on Lou being young and a minor.

Like

“Ten years waitin’ for you to grow up so I could do this.”

Sir, ten years ago she was 7 🤡

But other than that, it was a fine read

[nudeartpluspoetry]

First Black Student Union founded there then, along with one at San Francisco State University.

Jackson State College, Jackson, MS, May 15, 1970 / 2023

Phillip Lafayette Gibbs, (September 1, 1948 – May 15, 1970), student James Earl Green, (December 19, 1952 – May 15, 1970), student at Jim Hill High School (walking down the street on his way home from work)

(image: The bullet-riddled windows of Alexander Hall at Jackson State College, MS, May 15 (or 16), 1970. «The Nation» / © AP Photo. Plus: The Mississippi Digital Library, Hattiesburg, MS)

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 2 -  La Valse de Paris

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

AuthorsNote: Chapter 2 of new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This details our reader settling into Paris and the outbreak of war. Benedict turns up next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Your first few weeks in Paris are a delightful blur. 

Spending late summer exploring the city - with Solène as your occasional guide and Eloise when she is not at work. You soak up every moment, from the windswept magnificence of standing atop the Eiffel Tower, your words being stolen by the wind, to the monastic silence of the Louvre on a quiet Monday morning. And everything in between - from Notre Dame's atmospheric incense-laden gothic darkness to the airy, resplendent glass dome of Galeries Lafayette that glitters like a prismatic jewel even on cloudy days. 

But perhaps your favourites are the little slices of city life: sitting watching the world go by at a corner cafe, the crunch and warm, pillowy softness of the first bite of freshly baked baguette as you wander back from the boulangerie, the lingering fragrance of the rose garden at the Château de Bagatelle in Bois de Boulogne... It's all pieces of a puzzle that fill your heart in ways that make your life before now seem drab, almost in black and white, like a photograph.

You have written to Stanley once since you arrived, effusive in your praise, a homily to your new home, however temporary. While proclaiming his happiness for you, his response tempered, a touch dismissive of your wonderment. I can scarcely believe any city could truly live up to the praise you so readily heap upon Paris, my love, he wrote back. That was a week ago, and your urge to reply has been muted. 

It's during an idle lunchtime by the Seine, eating a sandwich as you dangle your feet over the river wall, that you genuinely feel a local. An elderly French couple, likely visiting from the provinces, approaches you and asks you for directions to the Musée de l'Homme. Part of you aglow they think you sophisticated enough to look Parisian, and French. And you are able to help them, giving them the information in French, not fluent but sufficient that they are surprised when you confess “je suis américaine”.

In your third week, you secure the art gallery job Eloise had seen posted. An opportunity to meet many new people, primarily British and American, who share your love of art of all persuasions. You spend many a happy hour answering questions and building your knowledge of art, not just in your gallery but across the city. Part of you is wistful to study the subject in even greater depth than the books you borrow in copious quantities from the library where Eloise works.

You grow so close to Eloise so quickly that it’s as if you have known her your whole life. A sense of kinship, a near familial bond. You know, on some instinctive level, she will always be a part of your life somehow. Your evenings are often spent in lounge bars together—venues awash with art deco splendour as you listen to jazz through a cigarette haze and flirt aimlessly with a carousel of handsome men. Life seems so full of potential, a hum in your very being.

“What do you think the purpose of life is, y/n?” Eloise sighs as she flops onto your bed after returning from one such decadent night out.

“Aaaand we are done with the brandy…�� you declare, taking the bottle of Martell cognac from her grip and placing it pointedly on the dresser, your high-handed point only mildly undermined by your own unsteady gait.

You collapse down next to her, the intricate ceiling rose around your light fixture swirling slightly before your very eyes.

“Love?” you hazard in answer to her question.

“Boo! Cliché!” she jeers, elbowing you good-naturedly.

“I don’t just mean romantic love,” you protest, “the love of family… friends…”

“Ah, yes, family. Endlessly large family. Don’t suppose you want an extra sibling or two, do you? I could be persuaded to let a couple go,” she squints comically.

“Depends… can I have the artist?” you jest.

“You have to stop staring at that painting; it's getting weird,” she opines with her typical bluntness, “and no, you can’t. You know he’s my favourite,” she pouts.

“I think he’s my favourite too,” you opine over a stifled yawn, any embarrassment about being called out for your unbridled admiration overridden by the sleepy state your comfortable bed lulls you into.

“If you end up being attracted to my brother, I will have to disown you, you know,” she pats your hand drowsily.

“Hmm, good thing he’s so far away…” you trail off with a lazy giggle, eyes drooping heavily.

It’s the last words you exchange before you both fall asleep on your bed.

–

Perhaps, as with all things that are too good, the idyll is temporary. It's the news you wake up to that following morning, September 4th, which throws everything into uncertainty. Solène knocks on your door early with an uncharacteristically sombre expression, wordlessly handing you the morning paper and flicking on the wireless on your mantelpiece, the fine lines on her face deeper etched, furrowed with worry.

‘La Guerre!’ the headline screams from the newspaper. And the voice on the airwaves, your ear more attuned to the language now, details how Britain and France have jointly declared war against Germany for their invasion of Poland a few days prior.

At the sound of the radio, Eloise emerges from your room, blinking and hair asunder, a little delicate from your previous night's revelry. You sip coffee at a loss for what to think or do. It’s an odd cognitive dissonance when life at once seems identical but also changed by an invisible shape - an undercurrent of fear, of the unknown, a punch to the pit of your stomach that you don’t know how to acknowledge - even as you go through the motions of your daily routine and head to work.

By the evening you are more phlegmatic about the situation. Your spirit dampened, yes, but not crushed. You feel an immense sense of privilege that conflict is not yet at your doorstep, but equally knowing being in the capital city of a nation that just declared war against a neighbouring country is not exactly safe.

You and Eloise splash out on dinner at an upscale brassiere that night, one you have both passed and commented you’d love to dine in some time. Both of you seized by the unspoken “what if”, the previous reluctance to treat yourselves entirely absent.

Talk on all the tables around you as you dine - on heavenly butter-soft steak - is about the war. What it could mean for Paris, fear of another major European conflict so soon after the last, the economic concerns - the bite of the early 30s depression just relinquishing its hostile grip on the somewhat bruised denizens.

Afterwards, you wander the cobbled streets back to your apartment, arms looped, bellies full, occasionally staring up at the starry night sky in mostly contemplative, sober silence. It’s a beautiful evening, but something in the warm breeze feels melancholic.

When you open the door to your building, Solène is waiting, rocking on her heels.

“Eloise, a telegram has come for you!” she announces, shoving a piece of paper into her hand. “And a telephone call from England earlier,” she adds, gesturing to the black rotary phone outside her place—the only one in the building.

Eloise gives you a brief glance and then opens the message. You watch her eyes ping across the text before her shoulders slump.

“My mother,” she sighs in explanation, “it appears she is summoning me back home.”

“What?!” the selfish reflex of not wanting to be left alone is the first thing flaring in you.

“It’s not fair!” she whines in a flash of child-like defiance before continuing in a more subdued tone. “She is sending my brother to come get me. She doesn’t specify which, but seeing as Anthony is a Lieutenant General in the Army and has likely been called to Churchill’s side, I'm presuming Benedict,” Eloise surmises. 

Your thoughts instantly fly to that painting hanging in your apartment upstairs. A strange flutter under your ribs at the idea you could be about to meet its creator. Quickly followed by a wash of guilt that you could even focus on such a frivolous thing.

“What will I do without you?’’ You fret aloud, grasping her arm tighter.

“There was a call for you too, y/n,” Solène pipes up. “Your father wants you to exchange your return ticket for a sailing home as soon as possible,” she relays.

“But.. I just got here!” your lament as defiant as Eloise’s. A frustrating sense you are losing a fleeting opportunity you already hold so precious - like a new toy being ripped from the meaty fist of a truculent toddler.

“Mes amis, what can I say?” that trademark Gallic shrug seizing Solène’s shoulders. “While Paris is safe for now, we do not know how much longer that will hold true… it is likely best you return home. Perhaps this will be over in weeks, and you can return?”

You know your parents have paid your rent upfront for a whole year, likely similar for Eloise, your landlady not impacted financially by your leaving, merely a wish for you to enjoy your Parisian adventures.

As you unlock the door to your apartment and wander in, both of you sigh; the illumination from the Eiffel Tower that refracts upon your window pane just adds to your melancholia, a sight that before had never failed to warm your heart.

“When will your brother get here?” your inflection dull.

“Tomorrow, most likely. It only takes a couple of hours to cross the Channel, and as you know, the train ride from the coast is just a few more. I expect he’ll be waiting for me right here when I return from work,” her tone is just as flat as yours.

You want to ask if she will pack tonight, but you stop yourself, seeing the flame that usually burns so bright behind her blue eyes dimmed. Wordlessly, you draw closer and pull her into a firm hug.

“I will miss you like a sister,” she whispers into your hair, returning the embrace just as fiercely, “maybe moreso.”

You nod and band your arms tighter briefly before letting go, bone-deep exhaustion overtaking anything else you see in her mirrored stance.

The last thing that captures your eye as Eloise turns to her room is that painting of her childhood home and, strangely, how it feels closer now than ever before.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[archivaltrigger]

“Because the US government was not acting on mass shootings, we directly attacked a trait Americans are most known for: their pride in their country. Change the Ref created the Shamecards, a postcard collection designed to demand gun law reform from Congress. Subverting the traditional greeting cards that depict each city’s landmarks, ours show what cities are becoming known for.”

shamecards.org

There is 54 cards total representing:

Annapolis — Maryland: Capital Gazette Shooting

Atlanta — Georgia: Day Trading Firm Shootings

Benton — Kentucky: Marshall County High School Shooting

Bethel — Alaska: Regional High School Shooting

Binghamton — New York: Binghamton Shooting

Blacksburg — Virginia: Virginia Tech Massacre

Camden – New Jersey: Walk of Death Massacre

Charleston — South Carolina: Charleston Church Shooting

Charlotte — North Carolina: 2019 University Shooting

Cheyenne — Wyoming: Senior Home Shooting

Chicago — Illinois: Medical Center Shooting

Clovis — New Mexico: Clovis Library Shooting

Columbine — Colorado: Columbine

Dayton — Ohio: Dayton Shooting

Edmond — Oklahoma: Post Office Shooting

El Paso — Texas: El Paso Shooting

Ennis — Montana: Madison County Shooting

Essex Junction — Vermont: Essex Elementary School Shooting

Geneva — Alabama: Geneva County Massacre.

Grand Forks — North Dakota: Grand Forks Shooting

Hesston — Kansas: Hesston Shooting

Honolulu — Hawaii: First Hawaiian Mass Shooting

Huntington — West Virginia: New Year's Eve Shooting

Indianapolis — Indiana: Hamilton Avenue Murders

Iowa City — Iowa: University Shooting

Jonesboro — Arkansas: Middle School Massacre

Kalamazoo — Michigan: Kalamazoo Shooting

Lafayette — Louisana: Lafayette Shooting

Las Vegas — Nevada: Las Vegas Strip Shooting

Madison — Maine: Madison Rampage

Meridian — Mississippi: Meridian Company Shooting

Moscow — Idaho: Moscow Rampage

Nashville — Tennessee: Nashville Waffle House shooting

Newtown — Connecticut: Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting

Omaha — Nebraska: Westroads Mall shooting

Orlando — Florida: Pulse Nightclub Shooting

Parkland — Florida: Parkland School Shooting

Pelham — New Hampshire: Wedding Shooting

Pittsburgh — Pennsylvania: Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooting

Prices Corner — Delaware: Delaware Shooting

Red Lake — Minnesota: Indian Reservation Shooting

Roseburg — Oregon: Umpqua Community Collage Shooting

Salt Lake City — Utah: Salt Lake City Mall Shooting

San Diego — California: San Ysidro Massacre

Santa Fe — Texas: Santa Fe School Shooting

Schofield — Wisconsin: Marathon County Shooting

Seattle — Washington: Capitol Hill Massacre

Sisseton — South Dakota: Sisseton Massacre

St. Louis — Missouri: Power Plant Shooting

Sutherland Springs — Texas: Sutherland Springs Church Shooting

Tucson — Arizona: Tocson Shooting

Wakefield — Massachusetts: Tech Company Massacre

Washington — D.C.: Navy Yard Shooting

Westerly — Rhode Island: Assisted-Living Complex Rampage

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I like this idea- Cute 1875 fixer upper in Houma, Louisiana focuses on the original architectural features of the home. 3bds, 3ba, and only $146K. Due to requests for more less-expensive homes, I'm trying to find examples of what you can get for different prices and where they would be located.

It's so cute.

This front room is lovely.

Isn't this nice- built-in bookshelves with a window seat, and they left a portable fireplace, too. (I love when stuff conveys!)

Love the kitchen. They left a nice antique island. Nothing to really do in here.

Previous owner did some pretty stenciling. Love that.

Wow, detailed stairs. I would sand the globby paint to sharpen the detail.

Stairs are in great shape.

Nice. I even like the wallpaper.

Transoms that open and close.

Beautiful sconce.

How cute is this? They made a little library in a closet.

Wow, roomy vintage bath. Note how they "antiqued" the beadboard.

Very nice details.

Original flooring.

Not loving this bath, though.

Open bonus space on the uppermost floor.

Old, cement pineapple hospitality symbol.

The grounds need work.

But, the 69.52 x 116 ft. lot should clean up nicely. Cute little house for the price.

[ntzsche9]

I started something so similar to this prompt that would never have otherwise seen the light of day! But they're brother-wanderers, and the peril was already delt with. Based on a location from Fallout 4, with two of my OCs from Bad Blood.

Lafayette felt uneasy. The smell of explosives, blood and burning wood still hung in the air, but Luvell had tossed down his rifle and his pack and was scrambling in and out of the piles of books pouring from overturned shelves like a mole rat.

Downtown Boston was never quiet, but the sound of all the explosives and gunfire was sure to draw someone to what remained of the super mutant camp outside the Library. There were plenty of mutie camps around, and they could be summoning a whole family of them to avenge their cousins. Lafayette kept his own rifle at a low ready, pacing the musty halls and carefully listening for anything coming from the floor below. 

The building was strange, and massive, kind of like a museum but much more open. Infinitely more boring. There weren’t displays of oddly dressed mannequins or robots offering tours of their run-down facilities. Only the occasional poster with some cheesy quip about the power and joys of reading. And books. Rooms and rooms with rows and rows of fucking massive bookshelves crammed with books so old many had molded together. Lafayette didn't understand how there was enough shit in the world, even the old world, to write this many books about it all. Most were torn up, swollen from decades of rain seeping through the cracks in the vaulted ceiling above, but there were still so many legible books that even if his quick-reading brother started now, he would die of old age before he could finish them all.

He lost Luvell for a while, but eventually found him again in a cavern of tilted bookcases, sitting cross-legged on the floor and surrounded by multiple stacks of books he had organized in some bizarre order. Luvell had grown solemn in his late teens, pensive and closed off, but when he looked up at Lafayette with a massive grin, all Lafayette saw was the enthusiastic little kid he used to be.

“Look at this!” he said, launching into a rambling lecture about underground power grids and fission energy. Lafayette didn’t have the first clue what the fuck he was talking about, but he smiled down at him anyway, just happy to see him so lit up. That alone was worth all the fuckery it took to get in here.

“And these are for you!” Luvell added, pushing a stack with his foot toward him. The books and magazines were noticeably smaller than some of the books stacked in the other piles, but the tower reached his knee nonetheless.

“Bro we are not lugging this all the way home.”

“If we could drag Dad across the Commonwealth on a modified wheelbarrow, we can bring home a few books," he snapped. Lafayette looked sharply up at him, but his shock quickly subsided into laughter. Luvell wasn’t even joking, side-eyeing Lafayette with a calculative look, which made it that much funnier. “We gotta at least bring home the best ones,” he muttered.

“We’ll bring home the best ones,” Lafayette assured him.

“And stash all the other ones for the next few trips.”

“Next few trips!?”

“Yes! Absolutely! We gotta keep coming back to make sure this place is clear. I’ve been thinking about setting up another mine course when we leave, but I don’t want anyone who actually wants to read the books getting hurt.”

“Luvie this place has sat here for two hundred years, practically untouched." That was just an assumption. They had both seen the withered remains of the library's last guests, but it seemed to have been a very long time ago. "No one gives a shit like you do. It’ll be fine.”

“Ugh, you just don’t get it,” Luvell sighed. He picked up the first book in the pile and dropped it into Lafayette’s lap none too gently. 

….

Lafayette gave up waiting for him. He set up their bedrolls in the atrium, where very few of the glass panes remained, affording them a great view of the clear, starry sky above. The day had been exhausting, and his nerves were still raw, but Lafayette managed to fall asleep for a few hours before he heard Luvell come down the stairs. 

He groaned at the massive pile of books he set down beside his bedroll. "There is no fuckin’ way we can bring all this home. Where would we even put them? Most the houses in Sanctuary Hills leak worse than this place and it's still fucked most of them up."

“I wish we could make an actual settlement here,” he sighed, sitting down beside him. He rubbed his eyes, just as exhausted as Lafayette.

“You could,” Lafayette offered, tone changing at the look on his younger brother’s face. “People have set up in places like this. If it weren’t for all the radiation in town, that museum in Covington would have been converted into something.”

“Build real defenses in the front." Luvell continued, staring thoughtfully up through the few fogged panes of the atrium ceiling, where a waxing moon glowed cheerfully down on them. "A whole bunch of turrets around the place. Like Covenant. But also we’d have some gardens, here and outside. Maybe even livestock, though we would have to be more of a trade hub than a fully self-sufficient town.”

“There’s a whole bunch of offices that families could convert into homes. Who would you let it?”

“I mean, anyone who wanted to learn something. Maybe even teach folks to read. There’s a kid's section with tons of easy books.”

“Bunch of brainiacs, then. Might as well run a big-ass school.”

“Sure, but not just that. We would be able to barter with information. Lafayette, I don’t think you realize how much is here. How important this all is. People can learn new trades from the books here. They can learn computer systems and robotics, or chemistry and the best ways to make new medicine, learn about what resources are just laying around in the Commonwealth still and how we could best use them. Seriously, so many problems can be solved if people just understood things better and could learn better ways to handle them.”

“What would you call your town?”

“It’s not my town.”

“Yes it is. The intercom you hacked outside said you're the mayor. Mayor Luvell Daveriel Schneider. Your dads are gonna be so fuckin' proud.”

Luvell laughed, shaking his head as he thought for a moment. "Maybe Copeland? Like the subway station? No, no, it should just be called 'the Library'."

"Fuck, you are boring."

"You got a suggestion?"

"The Boston Public Mold-brary, the Rotting City of All-the-Knowledge."

"See, this is why you're never in charge of naming things"

….

He had been tiredly staring at the shadows, losing a battle with sleep, when he swore he could hear voices from downstairs. He was instantly awake, turning toward the open doors and straining to hear anything while hoping he was just tired.

No. Voices. They had company.

“Wake up,” he whispered, gently slapping Luvell in the cheeks and forehead before placing a finger over his mouth. Luvell slapped him back, then carefully sat up.

Writing promt

In a decaying, post-apocalyptic world, a lone wanderer stumbles upon a hidden library that holds the key to humanity's forgotten history, but accessing its knowledge comes at a perilous price.

[1264doghouse]

Stavin' Chain playing guitar and singing the ballad "Batson" accompanied by a musician on violin, Lafayette, Louisiana, June 1934, Alan Lomax Collection, Library of Congress.

[nordleuchten]

Major Tousard's letter to Georges de La Fayette

The following letter was written by Major Lewis (Louis) Tousard and is addressed to Georges de La Fayette. Tousard had served under La Fayette during the American Revolution and had returned to America in 1795 during the French Revolution. He obtained an American military commissioned and helped set up the precursor of the West Point Military Academy as well as designing Forts Adams and Hamilton. Tousard later returned to France and died in Paris in 1817:

West Point June the 14th 1796

Sir

I hope that Mr. la colombe will not have neglected to present to you my regrets of not having had the honour of seeing you before my departure, and to thank you of that which you have done to me, in calling upon me the day before my setting off for Washington. Immediately afterwards, my duty called me at West Point; and Keeps me there in a moment where an urging interest would dictate to me to go to Philadelphia, in order to claim the justice and the indulgence of the President of the United States in favour of my brother in law, a young man twenty two years old, at the moment of falling under the efforts of some enemys whom too guard a vivacity and some indiscret words have armed against him.

favoured with repeated marks of friendship and protection by your unfortunate father, and full of gratitude, I address myself with confidence to his son, well convinced that the sentiments which have always distinguished the father, cannot fail to be unimpressed in his son’s heart, and that he will do anything in his power towards the great Man who in this moment is a father to him, to prevent the ruin of a young man quiet tampered and indiscreet but full of honour and courage; that he will employ all the attachments with which he is honoured by his second father, to obtain justice or the forgiveness of offences which it would have been very easy for me to reduce to their right value, if, as requested lieutenant Simon Goddes, he had obtained the delay necessary for me to arrive and if [illegible] his Sire judges there had not been three who were evidences against him, and whom he had [illegible]

in any other circumstance I would not take the liberty of writing you to make any use of the President’s friendship for you; but his sentiments of indulgence and humanity are Known: he will never be displeased of you having procured him an opportunity of preserving the honor and profession of a young man who has devoted himself to the Service of his country, and of saving the live of a respectable mother, who would not survive the infamy with which her son should be stained: finally (if my feelings can but any way regarded) of saving to me after thirty two years of actual Service the pain of being involved in the dishonour of the family, whither to blameless, to which I have connected myself.

I take the honour to be with respect, Sir, your most humble and obedient of Servant

(signed) Lewis Tousard

My direction is: major Lewis tousard

Commandant at West Point.

Peeks Kill.

George Washington Papers, Series 4, General Correspondence: Lewis Tousard to George Washington Motier Lafayette. 1796. Manuscript/Mixed Material. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, <www.loc.gov/item/mgw440089/> on 04/19/2023.

[hiidkwhatimdoing7525]

My day at Willamsburg for Lafayette's bicentennial anniversary of his tour (as an American friends of lafayette member) part 3/?

First I was at Willam and Mary for Lafayette's return

Then the Colonial Willamsburg parade and a STUNNING performance in the Kimball Theatre at CW!

After that we went to the W&M library where we saw the ORIGINAL Lafayette's honorary diploma for law!!! shipped all the way from France!!!

At the end I attended a dinner where I got my book (hero of 2 worlds) signed by the author and we made a toast to Mark Schneider

So much happened in that room let's cover that in another post!

[justforbooks]

That Librarian by Amanda Jones

A small-town US librarian’s lively account of her battle with a group of far-right censors reveals the toll it took on her health

Amanda Jones’s story is awful – and important. A school librarian for 23 years in her home town of Watson, southern Louisiana, she has watched with concern in recent years as a movement of book-banning swept across the US. According to the American Library Association, “book challenges” in public libraries almost doubled from 729 in 2021 to 1,269 in 2022.

In July 2022, when Jones heard about a public meeting that would discuss “book content” in local libraries, she went along. A board member said she was “concerned” about some “inappropriate” material in the local library’s children and young adult sections. In response, Jones gave a measured speech, explaining her belief that “while book challenges are often done with the best intentions, and in the name of age appropriateness, they often target marginalised communities” and “books on sexual health and reproduction”. She went on to detail the “First Amendment right to borrow, read, view, and listen to library resources”.

“I said nothing earth-shattering,” Jones writes in her memoir. But within days her life had been upended because of two posts on social media. The first was by the Facebook page of Citizens for a New Louisiana, a far-right group whom Jones knew had worked to defund a library in nearby Lafayette and whose executive director was a man named Michael Lunsford. It accused Jones of “fighting so hard to keep sexually erotic and pornographic materials in the kids’ section”. The second Facebook post was made by local man Ryan Thames, who wrote that Jones advocated “teaching anal sex to 11-year-olds”.

The posts were shared widely by local people, including many Jones knew. “One parent in particular whose child I had helped with getting services for a learning disability was especially vicious,” she writes, devastatingly. Later, she received a death threat. Over the course of the next year, Jones, who is in her mid-40s, lost a lot of weight, experienced hair loss and took medical leave from work. In the spring of 2023 she sued Lunsford and Thames for defamation.

That Librarian is Jones’s account of the 2022 public meeting that started her ordeal, the ultimately unsuccessful court case and all that followed. She has a lively, convivial style: “I worried that my friends and family would be targeted next. Spoiler alert: they were.” Sometimes this breeziness veers into pettiness, as when she describes an opponent who has “the spelling and grammar of a child of 10”, or refers to Valarie Hodges, a member of the Louisiana state senate who posted online against Jones, as “my gal pal Val”.

The more wistful sections are warming. Jones describes how she was in high school when Watson had its first traffic light installed – that’s how small a town it is. She credits her teenage reading of Judy Blume, one of the most banned authors ever, with “making me more empathetic”. Jones believes uncompromisingly in the power of books to open minds. And through working as a school librarian, has seen the impact of exclusion politics: “I have lost more former students to suicide than I care to think about, many of whom, I suspect, died as a direct result of being made to feel excluded in our society.” Together, these experiences have informed her anti-censorship mentality.

But she knows party politics comes into it too. Her local area has become “extremely alt-right and conspiratorial” in recent years, and she has noticed that “all book banners seem to be Republican”. She is refreshingly honest about her relative complicity. “It wasn’t until I was into my 40s that I realised some aspects of our country weren’t that great,” she writes, before admitting that she voted for Donald Trump in 2016. She regrets it now, but these admittances are important. Listening to voices from across the political divide, and understanding the ways in which we are both similar and different to those who vote similarly and differently to us is crucial in understanding why the world is the way it is – even more so after Trump’s re-election.

Several times, Jones refers to how she has tracked her defamers to see they have also donated to election campaigns of particular pro-ban politicians. But she never fully examines the intricacies of this likely organised overlap, or takes a step back to consider how this current wave of book banning compares with historical cases. As such, “my fight against book banning in America” would be a more suitable subtitle, not “the fight”. This is a brave, fascinating book, but it’s the personal story of Jones’s ordeal – about which she is evidently still very bitter – rather than an account of the movement as a whole.

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